Vanilla Twilight
by Aurontalia
Summary: This is another random Songfic that goes with my other random Songfic about Hermione. It all takes place in an AU universe that will make more sense when I'm finished ALL the songfics.


Vanilla Twilight

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the song Vanilla Twilight. I have changed the lyrics that read 'when violet eyes get lighter' to 'when green eyes get lighter' to fit better.

_The stars lean down to kiss you_

An old man sat outside on the porch of his house. It was the new year, 2107, a year he'd never expected to see. He listened to the shouts of his children and grandchildren inside the Weasley home. It brought things back in such sharp relief, being back here.

_And I lie awake and miss you_

There, on the ledge, still here after all the renovations was the bit where he'd carved his name in before leaving for Hogwarts. It was a sort of Weasley tradition; he'd found George crying over Fred's one a few years before he'd passed away. Funny, he'd always thought the twins would've put their marks together.

He'd left for Hogwarts the next morning, so full of glee and anticipation. Ready to go. He had all of his little boy dreams then too. He'd wanted to be Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, Champion at Chess...

He'd be a Griffindor of course too. Of all the things that had happened to him at school only the Griffindor part had come true. And not the way he'd wanted.

He remembered sitting on the stool, the weight of the Sorting Hat on his head and he remembed what it had said. "Another Weasley I Know just what to do with you. Griffindor!"

It hadn't even stopped to consider that maybe Griffindor wasn't where he belonged. He wondered sometimes if his brothers had felt the same. He'd tried asking the twins briefly, but they'd just laughed. If Percy hadn't been such a swot he might've asked him. It was too late now of course; Percy had died at the Battle at The Ministry, almost a hundred years ago. Funny to think he was outliving his brother.

_Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere_

Funny to think he was outliving all of them. He'd overheard a conversation yesterday, or was it the day before? It had been between one of his various grandchildren anyway, and they'd been arguing whether or not Dumbledore had existed or not. It was almost funny.

_'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly_

Everything had vanished. Hogwarts had been rebuilt after the Last Battle, so much of it new he had barely recognized it when he went back for his seventh year. It had been full of the same younger students, and some of his classmates had been there too, and for a few moments, things had seemed the same.

There were all those bright spots. Studying with Harry and Hermione in the Common Room. Sneaking out after hours. Fighting Voldemort.

Things should've gone back to normal when they came back from the war.

But they hadn't.

_But I'll miss your arms around me_

Instead, Hermione was too busy obsessively studying in the library. You couldn't just come up and ask her for help anymore; she'd have gone off to a private rom and wired it with so many defensive spells half the Ministry couldn't break it.

Harry on the other hand, had seemed ridiculously lighter. He was forever sneaking off to do things he wouldn't tell them about. He kept treating class and everything else like it was just a joke, something to do until he got on to something bigger and better.

_I'd send a postcard to you, dear_

That was how he treated Ron too; his best friend, forgotten in the wake of his wish to leave.

In some ways, he couldn't blame Harry. Everyone kept looking at him with awe. The Slytherins of course, were more beaten down than ever. All they had to do was say a word out of line, be seen not smiling and sooner or later, they'd turn up at the hospital wing.

Never mind that Pansy Parkinson had died. Never mind that after she'd joined the Dark Lord at her parent's request, she'd broken it to tell Hermione information that had saved their lives, and then been killed, not by the Order or the Ministry, but by Voldemort.

Everyone had wondered why Hermione had been so sad after the death of a traitor.

It hadn't been until much later that Ron had learned that she and Pansy had been lovers, up until Pansy had died.

Harry hadn't wanted to do anything about it either. Why should he? He'd spent his entire life with Voldemort hanging over him like a demented bat. Why couldn't someone else fix things for once?

_'Cause I wish you were here_

But no. Everyone wanted The Savior to fix things, and wouldn't listen to anyone else who tried.

And then Harry had left, not telling anyone where he was going, just left. He hadn't even taken Hedwig, but instead had left her to Ron. There were many tiny white owls at the Weasley house for a reason.

_I'll watch the night turn light-blue_

It was getting light out now. Not from the day, but from the fireworks. The school had had a special graduation for all the students who graduated late because of the war. Fireworks, special food, the works. Some Ministry chumps had even come to speak to him about recruiting him to the Auror corps.

_But it's not the same without you_

Not because of his brilliant grades. Not because of how he'd taken part in the war. Not because, the rest aside, he was quite good at strategy and battle planning.

No. They'd wanted him because he was the Best Friend of The Boy Who Lived. The Best Friend of The Savior. He'd always wanted to be special in the eyes of the world, but who wants to be the sidekick? He wasn't even overshadowed by his family in this case, but instead his best friend.

Better make that best friends. Hermione was famous for the work she'd done too. Not just all the war stuff, but her grades, the experiments she'd done, how she continuously and tireless fought for House Elf Rights, and to change things. He wondered sometimes how Malfoy put up with her.

_Because it takes two to whisper quietly_

He and Hermione had dated briefly during the summer between fourth and fifth year, and then quietly broken up. It didn't work. Then he'd been back in the dorms with Harry, and they were staying up all night talking or just goofing off. They'd crawl into one bed and put a Silencing Charm up and talk until dawn. It was getting a bit weird at that age, but was still acceptable. He missed that.

_The silence isn't so bad_

Things had changed briefly, and they'd found other things to do at night.

And then had stopped, and suddenly Harry was sneaking out to see Pansy (although Ron had thought it was Cho), and Ron was dating Lavender Brown.

_'Til I look at my hands and feel sad_

Harry had been quietly angry with him the whole time. Not the angry he was with the rest of the school, loud and brash and overflowing to get him as many detentions as Fred and George ever did, but a quiet, simmering anger Ron hated. He wouldn't even touch Ron's hands anymore, and would flinch if they brushed against each other, even slightly.

_'Cause the spaces between my fingers_

He almost wanted to be angry back at Harry. Wanted to go and scream at him and

It was a cold, bitter day for him when Harry had kissed Ginny in front of the entire school. It had been at breakfast. Ron had been eating his third piece of toast. Hermione had been studying Charms, her bushy hair trailing into the pancakes. Harry and Ginny had been arguing about something.

_Are right where yours fit perfectly_

And then suddenly Harry had leaned across the table, pulled Ginny forward and kissed her. Pansy Parkinson had left the Great Hall. Ron's toast ended up on the floor, uneaten, and had to be pried up by a House Elf later.

His sister. His BLOODY little sister, Ginny. His spoiled, selfish, arrogant little sister, who'd lusted after Harry before she'd even known what the word meant had gotten him. His mother had been so happy when she'd found out. He wondered what her reaction might have been if he'd told her about him and Harry.

Too late now of course.

_I'll find repose in new ways_

He'd gone off with Dean and Shamus that day, avoiding Harry. And Ginny. From that day forward it had been Harry-and-Ginny, the Golden couple. Everyone had thought it was going to be Hermione or Cho. Some weird people even thought it might be Draco, who Harry at least fought with, not little Ginny Weasley, who Harry barely knew.

_Though I haven't slept in two days_

Harry had pulled one over all of them.

He'd felt a vicious surge of glee when Harry broke up with Ginny a few months after Christmas. They'd been fighting for weeks, months even, and suddenly it was over. Neither had looked very sad. Ron had had to hide his face to hide the glee.

_'Cause cold nostalgia_

He'd gone back that night to Harry's bed. Tried to see if he could restart what they'd had. But Harry hadn't been there.

_Chills me to the bone_

Later, when he'd mentioned it, Harry had given him a cold, searching look and pretended not to know what Ron was talking about. He'd gone out with a girl named Mindy from Hufflepuff next. A tittering, stupid blond girl with less brains than Crabbe or Goyle, if that was possible.

_But drenched in vanilla twilight_

He forgot now, who Harry had gotten married too. She'd been pretty, stupid, and foreign and had chattered on about some obscure sport. They'd gone on to have several children. One, James, had been a Quidditch star before becoming an alcoholic.

_I'll sit on the front porch all night_

He could pretend none of that had happened now of course. And it almost hadn't. Before Harry's wedding, where he was Best Man, and helping him get dressed, he'd mentioned it.

_Waist-deep in thought because_

Harry's hands had jerked and he'd said it was appropriate to talk about that sort of thing now. So Ron hadn't. It had been clear It Was Over. He'd almost been glad Harry was off in a foreign country, so he didn't have to try and salvage what was left of their friendship from things.

_When I think of you I don't feel so alone_

Five years after that Ron had gotten married himself. She was a nice girl, from a good, respectable half-blood family from India. One of Parvati's cousins he thought. He'd spent most of the wedding looking at her brother. He had dark hair like Harry's only smoother, and bright blue eyes, a half-mark off being too blue to be real.

_I don't feel so alone, I don't feel so alone_

No one had found out about their affair. Sameed had gone back to India and that was that. So Ron put his effort into raising his children and making the Joke Shop with the twins work.

_As many times as I blink_

It was a thriving enterprise now, worth hundreds of thousands of Gallons. The Weasleys were almost as rich as the Malfoys.

_I'll think of you tonight_

He'd used to think gold mattered. Even after being friends with Harry for so many years and seeing how Harry's money hadn't really helped, he'd still wanted it. After Harry had left for the last time, the time when Ron knew he wasn't coming back, Ron had begun to see how little it mattered.

_When green eyes get brighter_

He kept thinking, if only he'd changed things. If only he'd let Harry pay for things more, instead of being proud and stubborn. If only he hadn't been so... anything, everything, whatever he could've done to make Harry stay.

_And heavy wings grow lighter_

Then the report that Harry had died had come from his third, ditsy young wife. They'd already had the funeral over their, and buried Harry on their home grounds. Hermione was furious. The entire British public was furious. Harry Potter should've been buried at Hogwarts, or at the giant Weasley's Burrow, or at some public place they could turn into a shrine, not overseas with some new family they didn't know.

Ron had been sad. Sad that his best friend was really dead and things were beyond fixing. There were so many things like now. He kept wondering, how much of the fame they'd pushed on him had driven him away? How much of it was Ron's fault. He thought back to when he'd first met Harry and gaped at him. Later, when people had done that Harry's face had always fallen a bit before he plastered a fake smile on.

_I'll taste the sky and feel alive again_

He liked to think that Harry had been happier over there. He'd heard that Harry had played Quidditch a bit, as well as the other foreign sport and had fun. He even had a picture of Harry playing it somewhere. Before Harry had gotten married he'd liked to think about going over and joining him.

_And I'll forget the world that I knew_

It would only be a few more years before he did join him now. He was old. He felt it in his bones, in the way they creaked when he stood up. He felt it in the way his flesh sagged over his body like a tablecloth over an ill-fitting table. He felt it in the way he forgot which day it was, or where he'd left his keys.

_But I swear I won't forget you_

When people asked him about the war and he told them, they always told him he had parts of it wrong. Harry Potter with Death Eater Pansy Parkinson? He must be losing his marbles they thought. He could see it in their smiles, a little too wide to be real, and never reaching their eyes. He'd always been so good at reading people.

_Oh, if my voice could reach_

He wanted so much to be able to say something. He'd written about a hundred letters in his head to Harry after he'd left.

_Back through the past_

None of them were the same. Some were angry, some sad, some happy. Some rambled on through so may emotions Ron had lost track of what he meant to say at all. He'd never been good at putting things on paper.

_I'd whisper in your ear_

That was then though. Now, when he was too old for it to matter, he had some idea of what he'd say.

_Oh darling, I wish you were here_

It was the year 2097. Ronald Weasley was an old man. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Man Who Defeated The Dark Lord, was dead.

A dark haired, bespectacled boy raced down the hallway, rushing to a halt at a door. He spun to look at the red haired boy behind him panting.

"Come on Ron!" he said, his voice full of joyful anticipation.

End One Shot


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